the contents of my head

sometimes I end up doing the right thing, making the right decision.

and it feels so good. After living my life leaving a fucked up wake behind. It's even better knowing that no one but me will know I made the right decision, there will be no recognition, no pat on the back, just a light almost airless feeling to the weight that usually rests on my shoulders. It's a sweet feeling that I hope to remember, cause I know it won't last long. But finally, finally, maybe my emotions are catching up to the matured rest of me.

sometimes I find myself thinking of using this forum to garner results. To get pity, or affirmation, to toy with outcomes and perceptions. To poke where I should not. sometimes I find myself wanting to pander to an audience, whether real or imagined. Wanting to orchestrate a drama, to evoke, to provoke.

Thankfully I haven't. But the desire is disconcerting. I don't want to change the content of what I put here. I don't want to be influenced by outside means. I don't want to want a response. Oh, but I do.

None of this has any bearing on anything really. Just something that has been on my mind. Something that surprised me. All in the all, the point is, I feel really good. And I hardly ever use this to say that.

It's friday. Do something that makes you feel good.

reading.

sat down and read an entire book of poetry, it was surprisingly entertaining and even had a few awesome examples of poetry. This one hit particularly close to home for me.

Close to Midnight

Lying in bed
gazing up at the
glow-in-the-dark stars
on my ceiling,
I'm thinking of you

lying in bed
gazing up at your ceiling,
maybe thinking of me
at this very same
moment.

I'm thinking that
you've never seen my stars
glow in the dark,
and wondering
if you ever will.



-Sonya Sones

a quick note

to all the people I've let go...

to all the people that have left me behind...

why do I still miss you?

to sleep, perchance to not scare myself silly.

Most nights I'm pretty lucky. I'll go through months and months without ever remembering a dream, but then, I'll hit a patch where I remember every single one of them and I hate it. Because there will be one particular dream that will be horrifying or disturbing enough to catalogue itself in the annals of my mind and I'll get to remember it forever. Did I mention I never have any good dreams? Ever? Well, I don't. And I guess I didn't realize until recently, like oh today, that that's probably really abnormal. Like you're surprised something to do with me is abnormal? right. So the newest edition to the bad dream file, isn't horrifying on the surface, I guess, just really uncomfortable to ponder. I'll relate it so you can have a slice of my psyche to dissect.

My dream involves a friend of mine, who I know fairly well, we'll call him Joe. The dream begins with Joe and I just sort of sitting around doing nothing. And apparently I just got tired of being alone, of being cold on the inside, because when his hands caught my face and he kissed me, it got no restraint from me. We broke off with an awkward sort of pause, and then the wandering hands came into play, and we both decided to not care about the consequences. (No this isn't a wet dream, but yes things progressed from there) And I woke up, in the dream, wondering what the fuck was I thinking, which isn't all that unusual for me, especially in matters having to deal with sex. And time passed in that lovely hazy dream way, that I wish I could bring into real life. And weeks down the road, I end up pregnant.

Yeah, you read that right, pregnant. I was surprised too, for many reasons. Not the least of which is that I can't have children. And so, I go to him and present it hypothetically, what would he do if A happened? And he answers, and then sort of blinks and says, hypothetically, and then "oh shit". Yeah me too, buddy. And then it's all about marriage and raising a child and just building a life. Just sticking together, until one of us decides to leave, most likely for someone else. Giving it the old college try I guess. The next thing I know, I'm moving into his house, and we're going to become the Cleavers. After then things get a little fuzzy.

Now this might not seem so freaky to you, but it disturbs me on so many levels I can't even comprehend them all. And even with all my freud, and jung, and vision interpretations, I don't want to touch this one.

Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me I'm really heterosexual with frustrated mothering instincts.

And that in itself, is creepy.